Rememberance
by Kasamyra
Summary: Control and Comfort. What can I do? Dedicated to Sydahna Derzon.


Remembrance

Remembrance

I remember it all

The people who said they cared,

But did they really?

The stars themselves seemed to be falling out of the sky as the small drops of moisture hit Sydahna's thin form before dripping off her flat stomach and down the thin arms into the grass below her. The thin streams of rain mixed with the blood coming from Sydahna's torn skin, but the ground remained oblivions as it absorbed the moisture to nourish the life that depended upon it.

Dependence. Perhaps that was the problem. Sydahna had no one to depend on. No one to truly love.

Love. What is love? Sydahna had never known it. But then again she had. Love did not apply only to the living. The love Sydahna held applied to no one but herself. No. Not even her self. It was directed only towards her blood: the mysterious, thick, red liquid running down her body, subtly mixing with the water coming from the heavens. It fascinated her. How too much of these beautiful, sparkling red gems could end her life. How the pain she loved so much could be ripped away from her so easily. How her only release, her only love, could end so quickly, and she could continue on to her eternal damnation that surly waited for her on the other side of death. Stop, they would tell her. It's not right. Is it not right to love? Is it not humanly natural to be addicted to your release from life? To be addicted to your only love in life? Trust me, I've been there they said. But of coarse they haven't. They have no idea. They'll never understand, never know, and never care.

Care. The one emotion that always confused Sydahna. Could anyone truly define that word? There should never be just one definition. Everyone has a different opinion. What's right of wrong? What's good or evil? People have always had different ideas and thoughts. It's human nature. That's okay. But what confused Sydahna the most was how everyone tried to convince everyone else to change their opinion's to match their own. Why did they bother? Why did they care? Don't people like variety? They said they did.

Variety. Sydahna had never had much of that in her life. Get up, Get humiliated, Think, and Sleep. Every day of every week. At some moments, Sydahna would pause in her routine to wonder briefly what the point of all this was. Or why any of this mattered. But then she would realize that it didn't have a point and that it didn't matter. She would realize that she was just another person. One in six billion. Nothing special. Right?

I remember it all,

The sound of laughter, and how happy I'd been,

But was I really?

The wind blew harshly against the chains holding the swing Sydahna was sitting on, making it sway slightly. The moonlight shown brightly on the small, nearly abandoned playground, lighting it as if it were the middle of a bright, sunny day.

The Sun. Sydahna enjoyed the simple beauty of the sun. The way it slowly burned her copper skin. The way it was so happy, yet so harsh at the same time. Yet she liked the moon more, with its soft light and hidden silence and the way it casted shadows on life and the way it hovered barely out of reach, yet so far away. If only she could live like the moon. Covering the sins and the pain of her life, concealing the feelings she so longed to share, but never would. Such a beautiful, complicated object, full of life, yet so simple and dead at the same time.

Simplicity. How Sydahna longed for that one, small word. That time, so long ago it seems, when she could run free, without worries or thoughts, without care for her actions and words. When she could feel the warmth of the sun and absorb its innocent happiness into her soul. But no longer could she be young. No longer was she free.

Freedom. Endless meanings, How Sydahna used to long to be free once more. But that was before her own freedom. Her addiction to it only made it that much better.

I remember it all,

The pain of being alone, the feeling that everyone has left me.

But did they really?

Sydahna held tightly to the sharp silver, her addiction, her only real friend, with a shaking hand. She was alone once again. The thick, red rubies falling gently into the grass without a thought. Their meaning in life over, ended as always, by their maker.

End. Sydahna could wait no longer for it. Sometimes she wanted to draw it out. But never once had she feared it. Never once had she been afraid. And never once would she be. There was nothing left for her to live for. Nothing left to distract her from her thoughts, from her obsession.

Thoughts. Sometimes dangerous, sometimes corrupted, sometimes distracted. But never meaningless. No, not even Sydahna's most hopeless thoughts were meaningless. One day she would figure it out. Her purpose. Her meaning. Her point.

Point. Was there really a point to anything? Not as far as Sydahna had figured. No, not for anything.

But now they'll remember,

Staring at the silver beauty in my hands, how easy it would be to end it all.

But will I really?

The foot steps came from behind Sydahna as she drew the knife closer to her heart with shaking hands. So quietly she almost doesn't hear, he sits beside her on the grass. He was beautiful. His bronze hair glistening in the moonlight, his white shirt floating around him. He looks like a creature from heaven. Her own personal angel.

He sat quietly, watching the silver knife inch closer to Sydahna's broken heart.

Broken. How she felt. How she thought. How she would be remembered.

His cold fingers took the knife slowly from her hands, flipping it over and over once it was free. He examined it closely before laying it on the grass between them looking into her brown eyes with his black ones.

"Is it really worth it?" he asked her not wanting an answer.

The five words that had haunted Sydahna for her whole life.

And he was gone. Like he'd never been there at all.

Sydahna picked up the knife and watched the moonlight sparkle off it as she thought to herself,

Will I really?


End file.
